


gregor's diner; or, parsley is classy

by leias_left_hair_bun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leias_left_hair_bun/pseuds/leias_left_hair_bun
Summary: Ex-commando Gregor is fast learning that running a diner is not the relaxing break he'd imagined. His business partner, a former detention center guard with the appropriate name of Toast, is more concerned about sneaking toast into every possible aspect of the restaurant than actually helping him. His brothers are running riot and the Jedi generals are too busy keeping their padawans (or former padawans) under control to notice. Every time Gregor thinks he's finally seen it all, a customer figures out a new way to cause problems. Or Toast does."I'm taking them off!" Toast insisted, keeping the plate out of Gregor's reach. "I'mnotserving Commander Wolffe a plate of french toast with leaves all over it."Gregor made a grab for the plate and missed again as Toast danced out of the way."Parsley is classy!" he protested. He felt a headache coming on again. "And I let you keep the toast coasters!"This, the chaos diner au, is literally just Gregor and Toast living their best lives running a diner together. :D
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much @a-mediocre-succulent and @nelba for all your help and ideas for this one!! i couldn't have written anything without our brainstorming sessions <3

_A galaxy in upheaval! Shockingly, a clone ARC trooper has uncovered a traitorous plot headed by ex-Chancellor Sheev Palpatine. After a futile attempt to arrest Palpatine, Jedi generals Mace Windu and Obi-wan Kenobi executed him, thus ending what we are now discovering was a corrupt and terrible reign._

_While the extent of Palpatine’s betrayal has yet to be fully discovered, it has shaken an already restless galaxy. The Separatist leader Count Dooku, who our sources confirm has been in league with Palpatine since at least the start of the war, has lost the support of many systems, though he is attempting to win them back by brute force. Even more Republican systems have broken away and either chosen to align with the Separatists or declare neutrality. Dooku is swiftly launching attacks against these newly neutral systems, and so it is with great regret that your host must inform you that the war is nowhere near its end._

_In better news, the former Senator Bail Organa of the Alderaan system has been voted in as the new Republic Chancellor, with Senator Riyo Chuchi of the Pantoran system as Vice Chancellor._ _Many believe that Senator Padme Amidala of the Naboo system would have been elected in Chancellor Organa’s place if it were not for the revelation that she and General Skywalker have been secretly married since the beginning of the war and that she is pregnant with his child. According to the Jedi council, this was only discovered due to a public breakdown on Skywalker’s part after he learned the nature of his former mentor’s betrayal._

_Your host is happy to assure you that Skywalker has since recovered and is enjoying what we imagine is much-needed time with his wife while the Jedi council decides what to do with him. Even on what should be a vacation, Senator Amidala herself is still working hard to pass bills for clone rights and against the slaving trade. Former Jedi padawan Ashoka Tano, after hearing the news about Skywalker and Amidala, has returned to her previous position as commander of the 501st legion with the blessing of the council and is assuming Skywalker’s responsibilities until a decision has been reached._

_______________________________

Gregor looked around him at the small restaurant, soon to be his very own. Well, his and one other trooper’s. Thanks to the combined efforts of Senators Amidala and Chuchi, plus the Chancellor’s support, he was now part of a new program to give clones unfit for active duty a new chance at life. While he could have chosen to stay in the army and do desk work, he’d decided he’d rather try a new way of supporting his _vode_.

“You know, it’s hard for us clones to find a decent place to relax and get a bite to eat,” he’d told the program worker. “It’d do wonders for morale if there were a few restaurants on Coruscant for us, now that we have leave. The troopers will need somewhere to go that’s a hundred percent safe and right now, the only place like that is 79’s. And that’s just a bar.”

The worker had given him a dubious look over her datapad.

“Do you know anything about running a restaurant, clone?”

“Sure,” Gregor had said. “I worked in one. Basically ran the place.”

Okay, maybe he’d stretched the truth a bit, but he _had_ done the majority of the grunt work in that wretched dump, even if he’d only been paid as a dishwasher.

“Fine,” the worker had said. “I’ll put a proposal in.”

Thankfully, it’d been approved. Now Gregor was just waiting to meet his new co-worker.

The door opened and another clone walked in. He stopped short when he saw Gregor and the two men stared at each other for a moment.

“So,” Gregor said. “You’re Toast?”

It was almost imperceptible, but Gregor noticed that the other man winced at the name.

“Yeah. You’re Gregor? The ex-commando?”

“Yeah,” Gregor said.

He didn’t know how he felt about “ex-commando.” Technically, he knew that’s what he was now, but the loss of his rank was hollowly painful, especially after he’d so recently re-discovered his identity. He decided to try and change the subject.

“So, how’d you get your name?”

The other clone sighed.

“You know I was a guard at the detention center, right?”  
  


“Right.”

“Okay, you gotta understand there’s loads of security cameras in there. Everything the prisoners did was monitored, and that meant everything _we_ did was monitored.”

“That’s a rotten deal,” Gregor broke in.

Toast grimaced. “Yeah, it was. I know you boys had it rough on the front lines, but I would rather have been - well, that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Gregor nodded sympathetically. Toast was right, his squad hadn’t had it easy, but at least they’d had some semblance of freedom while out on campaigns. The clones who were assigned to the detention center never got a chance to escape the constant surveillance they’d experienced on Kamino.

Toast sighed again before continuing:

“There was this one riot where everything went sideways quicker than we could have imagined. I was just starting my shift in one of the control rooms when a bunch of the prisoners burst in - armed with our own weapons, you understand - and started mowing us down. It was terrible. I was the only one who made it out alive, and that was just barely. I was in a coma for weeks; after that, I was only fit for janitorial work.”

The program worker had told Gregor about this, but hearing it from Toast hit differently.

“I’m sorry, _ner_ _vod_.”

“I heard you lost your squad, too.”

“Yeah.” Gregor looked at his hands. “I don’t really remember it.”

“Ah.”

“You still haven’t explained how you got your name.”

“Right,” Toast said, standing up a little straighter. “I didn’t have a weapon when the one prisoner jumped me, but I did have a plate of toast in my hands, so I threw it at him.”

Gregor gaped for perhaps three seconds before he started laughing.

“You _what_?”

“I threw my plate of toast at him,” Toast said defensively. “It was instinctual. And then somehow, the surveillance got leaked onto on the holonet, and when I woke up from my coma, everyone was calling me Toast. I haven’t been able to get rid of it.”

“It’s a good name,” Gregor said untruthfully.

Toast looked at him skeptically.

“It’s good for the diner, though!” Gregor said. “Toast. Sounds like a fancy place.”

“We’re not trying to be the Skysitter,” Toast said. “We should just call it Gregor’s. That’s a proper diner name.”

“Boring. Gregor’s Toast?”

“No!” Toast said, pulling a face. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Sorry, sorry. Er. Maybe Gregor’s is best. It doesn’t seem right not to have your name on the place, though, _ner_ _vod_.”

Tilting his head, Toast grinned slyly.

“You can make it up to me by putting on the special I proposed. I’m guessing you read that part of the briefing?”

Gregor had read it, all right.

“There’s nothing _special_ about plain toast!” he protested. “It’s not even a main dish, it’s a side.”

“Ah, that’s what most people say, but they’re wrong,” Toast said. “Toast is the superior form of bread and paired with the right toppings, it’s to die for. We’ll serve it with an assortment of jams and compotes, butters and spreads - “

“Fine.” Gregor raised his hands in defeat. “If it makes you happy, we’ll make it a special.”

Toast nodded happily and turned his attention to the space around him.

“So, who do you think our first customer will be?”

“I don’t think many of the troopers are getting leave for a while yet,” Gregor said. “So it’ll probably be one of the Guard.”

It was not one of the Guard.


	2. in which the fork ban begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anakin shows up at the diner and brings his problems with him. obi-wan, as usual, finds himself trying to do damage control.

The door to the diner banged open, startling Gregor into dropping his spatula and reach for his blaster. He groped for it at his hip for a moment before his brain caught up and he remembered where he was. Sighing, he bent down to pick up the spatula. They really hadn’t expected to get any customers so early on their first day and Gregor found himself suddenly feeling more nervous than ever.

He hurried out of the kitchen and stopped short.

“General Skywalker?”

“Good to see you - um - trooper,” Skywalker said.

It was him alright, still wearing the same dark-colored Jedi robes he always had in the holos, minus the modified pauldron and chest plating. He looked…tired, Gregor thought, considering he’d practically been on vacation for the last few weeks.

“Name’s Gregor, sir,” Gregor said, resisting the urge to salute. “It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

“Thanks, Gregor,” the General said. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’, though, I’m just Anakin for the time being. Probably forever, actually.”

“Yes, sir. I mean - er, Skywalker,” Gregor said uncomfortably.

It didn’t feel right to call the former general by his first name, but luckily, he seemed too preoccupied to notice. Skywalker threw himself into the nearest booth and slouched against it, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“Padme wants pickles and caf,” he said. “And she wants to know how the diner is doing.”

“Pickles and caf?” Gregor looked around hopelessly for Toast. “Just - just pickles, sir?”

“Just pickles. Oh, and you’d better add a milkshake, just in case; she usually ends up wanting ice cream. Do you have anything kind of plain? Something she can dip the pickles into?”

“Er - “

“We do, sir!”

It was Toast, hurrying into the front with a take-out container in his hands. Gregor sighed in relief.

“We can do a plain shake without any flavoring, and we’ll get that caf started right away. Here’s your pickles,” Toast continued, handing Skywalker the take-out container. “Though, if you don’t mind me asking, sir, why didn’t you just go to one of the markets?”

“I’m not a general anymore!” Skywalker said, his voice rising, and Toast flinched. “I’m sorry, trooper, I’ve just been hounded by people since I got suspended from the order and I’m _exhausted_.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Toast said. “I know how irritating civilians can be.”

“They blaming you for Senator Amidala or somethin’?” Gregor asked. “Not to be rude.”

“It’s all right, Gregor.” Skywalker leaned his arms on the table and frowned pensively. “No, they’re not blaming me for anything - well, some people are, but that’s not what the worst of them are doing. It’s mostly a bunch of teenagers. They all want me to take flat-holos with them and get my signature, and they want to know - “ his voice went up in pitch as he imitated his fans - “‘Ooh, General Skywalker, did you _really_ betray the _Jedi_ for the _Senator_? I just think that’s so _romantic_ of you. Do you think a Jedi would betray the Order for _me_ , General Skywalker?’”

Next to him, Gregor heard Toast stifle a laugh. Skywalker, now in full-on rant mode, kept going.

“And if it’s not a bunch of besotted teenagers, it’s these kids who all beg to know how many droids I’ve killed, or will I please teach them a cool lightsaber move, or - or - I don’t even know; I’m sick of finding glittery love-letters on the seat of my speeder and running into a holojournalist every time I walk into a market. And I can’t send threepio to get anything. I tell him to buy one thing and he comes back six hours later with a bunch of extra stuff he got at a ‘bargain’ and some story about getting jumped by ruffians.”

“That sounds trying,” Gregor said sympathetically.

“It _is_ ,” Skywalker said. “That’s why I came to your place; I knew you men wouldn’t bother me and I could get Padme’s pickles in peace. Hey, can I get a burger while I’m here? Medium-rare, and no pickles on it, please. I don’t want to so much as smell another pickle ever again.”

“Right away,” Gregor said, biting his tongue to keep from adding “sir.” This was going to take some getting used to.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Gregor heard Toast asking something about Senator Amidala’s health. He couldn’t quite catch Skywalker’s reply, but it seemed to be excessively lengthy and, oddly enough, have something to do with midnight runs for moss chips.

Gregor let himself zone out and just focus on cooking. He liked this kind of thing, not that he’d gotten a chance to do it at his old workplace very often. He was a fast learner though, and over the last few days, he and Toast had had a good deal of fun developing recipes. Aside from a few failed experiments, they’d been surprisingly successful at it, and as long as Gregor avoided looking up and seeing the stain the exploding sauce had left on the ceiling, he felt fairly confident in his new skill.

He was just plating the burger when he heard Toast yell something, followed by a crash that sounded like a chair being knocked over. Gregor very nearly dropped his spatula again.

“How did you even find me here?” he heard Skywalker shout.

_This isn’t supposed to be happening_ , Gregor thought. The diner was supposed to be _relaxing_ \- a place of healing, the briefing had called it. Perfect for ex-commandos with brain injuries and a tendency to panic at sudden, loud noises. Gregor slapped the top bun on the burger and shoved the plate aside, reaching up to grab his blaster from where he’d hidden it on a top shelf.

Running into the front room, Gregor saw that they had another visitor, a Tholothian who was standing in front of a holocam protectively as it hovered behind her. Gregor glanced at the badge she was wearing and felt his stomach sink. The last thing they needed was bad publicity from the _HoloNet News,_ and considering Skywalker appeared to be pointing some kind of weapon at her, bad publicity was about the only thing they could expect to get out of this.

“General Skywalker, our viewers simply want to know - “ she began, but Skywalker cut her off.

“I’m not a general!”

“Alright, then, _Anakin Skywalker,_ our viewers - “

“Look, lady, could you do this another time? We want our customers to feel comfortable and I don’t think you’re makin’ Skywalker feel all that comfortable,” Toast said.

He tried to place himself between the two of them, but Skywalker shoved him aside and took a step towards the holojournalist, brandishing the object in his grasp menacingly.

_Wait a minute._ Gregor saw what the object was now; was Skywalker really threatening the Tholothian with a _spork_?

“For the last time,” Skywalker said through gritted teeth. “I am _not_ tormented! Padme does _not_ ‘wear the pants’ in our marriage, whatever that means! We both wear pants! And I haven’t been expelled from the Order _yet_!”

“C’mon, Skywalker, you gotta put down the spork,” Toast said desperately. Catching sight of Gregor, he gestured at the scene. “Little help here, _vod_?”

The holocam pivoted to point at Gregor and he hastily shoved the blaster into the back of his belt. Hopefully he’d been quick enough to avoid being caught on record with a weapon; he didn’t want to further the “violent killing machine” stereotype.

“Ma’am, Skywalker’s just a little tired right now,” Gregor said in the most placating tone he could manage. “And I have to remind you that this is private property, technically speaking.”

The Tholothian whipped her head around towards Gregor, her tendrils swinging with the sudden movement.

“Was that a threat, clone?” she asked.

“No-o,” Gregor said hesitatingly. “But like my colleague said, we want this to be a safe, relaxing place for our customers, so unless you’d like to sit down and have a bite to eat, I think it’d be better if you left. No offense, I hope.”

Clicking her tongue, the holo-journalist snapped her fingers and the holocam swiveled around to face her as she began speaking to it.

“After being threatened by both a Jedi and a clone in the same establishment - “

“Not a Jedi!” Skywalker yelled.

“ - in the same establishment,” she repeated, paying the seething ex-general no mind, “your reporter is left disturbed and puzzled by the hostility of the members of the military among us. How will they ever adjust to civilian life? _Is_ there a possible life outside of the mysterious Jedi Order for one of its knights? And is Senator Amidala, surrounded by such men, in danger of turning from her diplomatic ways?”

Toast shuffled over to stand by Gregor.

“She must be new,” he whispered. “This is the worst _osik_ I’ve heard in a while. What’re we gonna do?”

Gregor sighed and thought for a moment, turning their options over in his mind. They didn’t have many.

“I think we wait ’til she decides to leave. She’ll run out of things to say pretty soon.”

“Right,” Toast said. “I’m just glad Skywalker doesn’t have his lightsaber.”

Gregor snorted at that.

“Want me to go get his food?” Toast asked. “Might calm him down a bit.”

“Mmm - take him into the kitchen,” Gregor said. He saw Toast’s eyebrows go up and he grinned. “Trust me, he won’t mind. He’s eaten in plenty of worse places if he’s seen half the action I have, and we need to get him away from her before he stabs her.”

“Can’t do much damage with a spork,” Toast said, but he beckoned to Skywalker anyway and lead him into the kitchen.

Gregor followed. The holojournalist could wear herself out spinning crazy stories; he still had caf to brew and a milkshake to make. He wasn’t about to let Skywalker go back to Senator Amidala with only a take-out container of pickles.

After Skywalker left - thankfully the holojournalist was long gone by that time - the rest of the day passed quietly. A few of the Guard came in for a late lunch, but that was all. The lack of customers didn’t bother Gregor; he’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was General Kenobi to call them over the telcom as they were closing up for the day.

“Good evening, Gregor,” he said. “I apologize for using such an impersonal method of communication, but I’ve received some troubling news concerning my former apprentice. Is Toast there as well, by any chance? I’d rather talk to the two of you at once, if that’s possible.”

“Yes, sir, I’m here,” Toast called over Gregor’s shoulder.

“Ah, very good. I’ll get straight to the point, then. Padme - or, I should say, Senator Amidala - has informed me that Anakin returned from your diner with some excellent product and the good news that your venture is doing very well indeed thus far - “

“Not sure I’d call pickles and a shake ‘excellent product’,” Toast whispered into Gregor’s ear.

“ - however, she also said that, according to the holonet, Anakin publicly threatened someone with a weapon. Now, I may not know Anakin quite as well as I’d previously believed, but I cannot imagine he’d be so reckless as to threaten someone with his lightsaber when he has been banned from using it for the time being.”

“Oh, it wasn’t his lightsaber, sir,” Gregor said quickly. “It was just one of our sporks.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the telcom.

“I beg your pardon?” General Kenobi finally said.

“We’ve got real forks on the way,” Toast said, leaning over Gregor’s shoulder to speak into the device. “We were just tryin’ to get utensils cheap and fast and, er - we didn’t read the product description closely enough. So all we had today was sporks, and Skywalker pointed one at a lady from the _HoloNet News_. She sort of deserved it, if I’m being truthful.”

“Ah.” General Kenobi paused again. “A spork. I see. I’ll admit, that’s somewhat of a relief to hear.”

“Definitely better than a lightsaber, eh, general?” Toast said cheerfully.

“I have to agree with you on that, Toast,” the general said. It was hard to tell over the connection, but Gregor thought he sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Could I request something of you gentlemen?”

“Sure,” Gregor said. “We’ll do anything you need, sir.”

“Very good. I need you to make sure Anakin is never given a proper fork.”

“Sorry, sir?”

“Do not, under any circumstances, give Anakin anything sharper than a spork. I am revoking his fork privileges - you can tell him that if he asks.”

_Fork privileges?_ Gregor looked to Toast, who just shrugged.

“Er - yessir, we’ll tell him, sir,” Gregor said.

“I appreciate your help, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll see you soon; in the meantime, good luck to you both.”

“Thanks, sir,” Gregor said.

The telecom disconnected and Toast immediately started laughing.

“Guess we’ll be keepin’ the sporks around, eh?”

“Guess so,” Gregor said. “I wonder how Skywalker’s going to take the news.”

“With any luck, he won’t even notice,” Toast said.

Unfortunately, he noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very sorry, but other than understandable things like moss chips, i am not trying to make the food ‘star wars-y’ in this chapter /: burgers are just called ‘burgers’, shakes are just called ‘shakes’. the word ‘bantha’ does not appear bc i am unreasonably ~salty~ about it. i may have bitten off more than i can chew (HA) with trying to write a whole star wars fic around food, but uhhhhh yeah i'll try harder next time XD


End file.
